Riding; so quiet I can hear
The hoofbeats falling on the snow.
Only the grey crows career
Noisily across the meadow.
Under an unseen wizard's spell,
The woods dream fairytale sleep.
A pine I watch is lied up well
Like a white handkerchief.
And stooping like a crippled crone
Bent over her stick half way
Perched on the topmost point, alone,
A woodpecker pecks away.
I gallop on, in endless space.
Snow falls, and softly knits its shawl.
Ahead the highway bounds apace
As ribbon unrolls from a ball.